


Important information

by Minkey222



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkey222/pseuds/Minkey222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of a prompt, I can't remember from where:<br/>'The brothers find your prescription meds, mistake it for drugs. Misunderstandings ensue.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Important information

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me why, my hand just slipped okay? Please review.

Slamming the small packet onto the table, Dean broke you from your thoughts. You jumped slightly, the cup of tea shaking in your hold.

“What the hell is this?” He demanded, moving his hand so that the small item was no longer obscured. A small plastic packet, containing 10  small white pills stared up at you from its position on the table. Inconspicuous and highly unnoticeable when you want it to be but when it’s out in plain sight you didn’t want to acknowledge your down-comings. To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t what he thought. You weren’t a _‘junkie’_ , you weren’t addicted to drugs. Your hesitation to answer his question, however, seemed to lock in your guiltiness.

“(Y/n) whatever this is, you don’t need it.” Then the weight of the statement started to settle in as he lifted the packet and dropped it in his own pocket, patting it for emphasis. He then leant down, resting his forearms on the table opposite to you so that both of your faces would be level. His look sent shivers down your spine when you realised what he was going to do to you.

“I need them,” You weakly mutter and his gaze is too heavy for you, full of concern and self-appointed righteousness.

“No, you don’t. The _only_ way to get through this is to go cold-turkey, hun. I’ll be there for you but you can’t keep doing this.” And with that, he turned and left the way he came. You had words of protest on your lips, just itching to come out and explain the situation, explain what they were and what they did- Why you needed them. The words died there, though, as the thoughts of having to explain your weaknesses squashed any hope of explanation. You simply sat there, with the cool cup of tea still cradled in your hands, stare point blank at the plain wall in front of you.

Your thoughts turned to getting more, however, that would not slide. If you could somehow get around Dean, who would undoubtedly watch your every move for a while, you wouldn’t be able to actually get any more as the few pills that Dean had in his pocket were the last of your prescription until next week. Then your thoughts turned to simply explaining to Dean, telling him everything, but you shot that down. He would turn you out in an instant if he found out. Your final thought was trying to steal them back but that would never work, Dean’ll have hidden them and if not, he would, of course, be watching you closely. That left you with the shocking realisation that you’d have to make it through this week without them. You’ll simply have to go _cold-turkey_. Gulping down the remains of your tea you stood and moved to the library to drown yourself in research until you could go to sleep and then you’d have to deal with it from there.

Upon waking up the first thing that you noticed was the blindingly sharp pain in your head. It felt that there was stake driving down through your skull and you felt that you could pass out from the pain. But you knew you couldn’t.  Dragging yourself out of bed you threw yourself into the shower, letting the hot water give you reprieve for only a moment and then going through the motions, getting dressed and then walking to the kitchen, sitting down with yet another cup of tea. Trying to ignore the fact your entire body felt like it was on fire, the pain, of course, stemming from the lighting in your brain.

“Goodmorning, (Y/n)” Sam offered as he walked into the kitchen and served himself breakfast.

“Morning, Sam” You responded politely through clenched teeth. You wanted to scream, throw something and then claw at your flesh until it finally stopped hurting you but you knew you couldn’t let them see what was really happening, you couldn’t recount the tale that led to this. This wasn’t withdrawal, this was every day for you.  Breathing in through your nose and then letting out the air through your mouth, you managed a small smile at Sam, who was now seated across from you. He moved, laying his hand on top of your own, smaller hand, which only served to exacerbate the awful itch lying under your skin, he smiled bittersweet at you.

“Dean told me what happened, what he found,” You grimaced at him, “But I know how it feels, to be addicted to something, to be out of control but we’ll get you through this,” It took everything you had to not wrench your hand from beneath his and shout at him and to instead politely excuse yourself before practically running to your room. Taking another deep breath in and out, you tell yourself again, only 4 more days to go. You have another shower, allowing the steam to dislodge your thoughts and alleviating the migraine you’ve had since yesterday evening. It doesn’t last for long though as soon enough Dean’s banging at your door telling you to hurry up.

You quickly leave the warmth and get dressed once again, trying to ignore the painful tingling underneath your skin, trudging down to meet the boys. When they see you they calmly tell you that there’s a hunt that they need to go to and due to your _situation_ you were going to stay here- With Cas checking in now and again. You wanted to groan but you didn’t. At least you didn’t have to hunt whilst feeling like this and you could give up your false front for a few days.

“This won't take long, (Y/n) and I want to be able to trust you, but if I hear from Cas that you’ve done something then I _will_ be coming back here, understood?” You nod and the boys leave with their packed bags.

“Take care, (Y/n),” Sam says as he leaves and then you are left alone. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding and promptly grabbed food from the fridge, your phone and a bottle of water and flopped on your bed. Trying to get to sleep despite the fire dancing in your body.

You didn’t leave your bed except to take periodical showers and to replenish your food and drink supply for the entire 3 and a half days that the boys were gone for. Cas dropped in now and again, making sure that you hadn’t died or something like that. He could sense your pain and have, on multiple occasions, offered to _heal_ you but there was nothing he could do, you had been like this since you were only 13 years old. You brushed him off and he left you alone. After all, you only had to wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow you could drag your sorry ass into your car and could drive to the pharmacy and could get your prescription. Then you could go back to acting as if nothing had happened and could continue to hide this part of yourself.  There were just a few things that you’d rather not reminisce on.

In fact, you were still laying on your bed when you heard the deep rumble of the Impala rolling into the drive and then the distinctive noises of the brothers returning.

“Honey, I’m home!” You heard Dean’s sing-song shout reverberate through the bunker. You heard more murmurs as the boys got progressively closer to your room. They opened your door, you think they knocked but you don’t know. Honestly, you can’t focus on anything, the pain making the world go in and out of focus. It’s not been like this in a while. You lay face down on your bed, they walk over quietly. There’s suddenly a hand on your back, it’s cool and soothing on your too-tight skin.

“Hey, you alright?” A voice asks, Dean you think, the hand rubs up and down your spine. It feels nice. You manage a nod and then fall back into your half sleep, you wouldn’t have been able to stand up anyway. They leave you alone after that.

The next morning you wake up early, dragging your body out of your bed and into the shower, you wash, letting the water soothe you, if only for  a moment, and dry off quickly. You walk silently into the kitchen, ignoring the jarring sensation each step makes. You make a coffee- The caffeine will get you to the pharmacy- and all but chug it down, the hot liquid burning on the way down but it’s no different than the past few days anyway. Then, grabbing the prescription, you trudge out to your car, silently turn the ignition and drive. It’s difficult to focus on the road but it’ll all be worth it when you can get your painkillers and be done with all of this. You get there in one piece eventually and get the pills, choking one down as soon as possible and wait for the effect in your car in the parking lot. The fog of pain starts to lift and you feel like you can finally breathe again, for the first time in days, you can finally focus on your surroundings. You drive back smoothly, your saving grace safely tucked away in your bag. It doesn’t get rid of the pain, just alleviates it enough for you to function.

When you get back the bunker your good luck has ended. Sam and Dean are waiting for you on the sofa and beckon you over.

“Where have you been, (Y/n)?” Dean asks, his eyes searching your face for any signs or answers, Sam simply looks sympathetic.

“I went out.” You reply, short and clipped.

“Yeah I figured. ‘You go to get your next fix? Huh, been itching to get it?” Dean all but growls at you and you shrink under his glare. You don’t think you’ll live if they take this months prescription. The pain will be too much, but you’re too stubborn for your own good. Just like the brothers who took you in.

“Now are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” He asks as he stands. His hand outstretched waiting for you to give them to him. Sam looks at you from behind his brother.

“Look, just give them to Dean and we’ll get through this together,” he offers comfort, but it does nothing for you.

“We won’t be doing this either way. This isn’t what you think!” You say, having found your voice.  
“Like hell, it isn’t. What even is it that you’re taking? Coke? Some new fangled drug you got your hands on at the bar? Huh, some sleazy dude give it to ya?” Dean’s being insistent. You ground your teeth at the needling.

“So what is it?” He won’t give it up already, he’s pushing your buttons and he knows it. He’s trying to corner you, put pressure on you.

“They’re pain-meds.” You murmured.

“What’s that?” He says, his hand still outstretched.

“I said they’re pain-meds” You spoke through clenched teeth. Your statement stopped him, though.

“What?” He asked. His hand wavering before dropping to his side. His whole body becoming loose as he realises what’s happened.

“Why? Why pain-meds?” He questions and you sigh, some things should just stay in the past. This is why you tried to hide this from them. You supposed you had to give them an answer or they would never let it up.

“I was 13, walking home from school one day and I got jumped,” You pause as the memory washes over you. “They stole my stuff, dragged me into an alley and- and did things I’d rather not remember. My hunter instincts kicked in and I fought back, but I was only 13! There was nothing I could have done. My efforts left me with fractured vertebrae, temporary paralysis and,” You stopped as you looked at the boys through tears, “Permanent nerve damage. My meds are for the pain it left me with.” You look away from them both.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked and his face looked like a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t want to because you think of me differently,” You explained.

“So you mean to tell me that you’ve been in agony for days because you didn’t want me to think any differently of you?” You nodded at Dean, “God, this is messed up. I am so so sorry,” He apologised.

“You couldn’t have known,” You muttered.

“Yeah, but I should have,” Dean exclaimed, running his hand through his hair, making it stick up wildly and randomly.

“Just, promise, no more keeping important information bullshit, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”


End file.
